


Threads Unspun

by A_Random_NPC



Series: Voidsinger [13]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28248789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Random_NPC/pseuds/A_Random_NPC
Summary: Sinnlyra and her mentor, Tevruden, recently faced off against an entity of N'zoth. Having drawn the gaze of the Corruptor Himself, their lives are now at risk, meaning changes are in the works for both of them.
Series: Voidsinger [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796173
Kudos: 2





	Threads Unspun

**Author's Note:**

> Tevruden Dawnspear belongs to @Tevruden on Twitter! Artwork of him can be found here: https://twitter.com/tevruden  
> Alvenyr Moonsorrow belongs to @Vaethryn on Twitter! Artwork of him can be found here: https://twitter.com/vaethryn
> 
> This story is being told in a combination of in game role play and through my writing.

The open market of Stormwind once held nothing but anxiety and terror for Lyra. Now, it was a treat she afforded herself once a week on her less busy days as a reward for her diligent work. The bustling trade district was filled to the brim with people of all races and creeds; farmers of all kinds crying out the ripeness and delectability of their produce warred with artisans extolling the virtues of their finely crafted wares. It was a bright, colorful, chaotic mess filled with sights, sounds, and scents meant to tantalize any unwary shopper into an injudicious purchase.

Much like the finely crafted drop spindle Lyra was holding in her hands.

It was a magnificent piece of polished star wood, expertly carved by the hands of Darnassian artisans, or so the vendor claimed. She checked the maker’s mark on the weighted whorl, and sure enough, a small cartouche confirmed the dwarf’s words. She felt a twinge of pity for the refugees who had slowly been finding new homes for themselves after being displaced by the great fire, and promised herself to stop by the Cathedral to offer what support she could again. The need for woven bandages and other supplies were slowly trickling as the survivors recovered from their injuries, but with the colder season around the corner, she knew other items would be needed like blankets and cloaks. She idly plucked a few spare threads from her belt purse and attached them to the hook of the spindle and gave it a deft twist of her wrist, watching the way it spun. The wood made mesmerizing patterns in the air as the whorl and shaft turned, pleasing her. An excellent tool, one she would treasure.

“How much?” Lyra heard herself asking as she unhooked the threads and tucked them away. The man grinned, scenting a sale, and named an outrageous figure that made her suppress a laugh. The old her would have paid it in a second, but now that her memories were restored again, she bargained merrily with the merchant until both of them walked away satisfied. The cheeky dwarf bowed gallantly to her as he handed her the silver and coppers that made up her change before turning to his next customer, a worgen looking at a carving of Malorne. Lyra peered around her, hoping to find a vendor selling unspun fibers she would need to spin her own thread. She stood on her tiptoes and spied a woman surrounded by rolags and rovings in all sizes and colors tucked in a corner next to the auction house and deftly threaded her way through the crowd to approach. Fibers of all colors and kinds from cotton to wool met her questing fingertips as she searched for something pleasing to her eyes and touch.

“Anything in particular you’re looking for, ma’am?” The woman, Gilnean by her accent, asked politely. From the thinness of her face, it was clear she had seen better days. Lyra felt a pull of sympathy for her, resisting the urge to touch her own face. Though she had begun to fill out herself, continued use of the Void and fel sapped at her body’s resources, keeping her thin to the point of almost being skeletal at times. After a misadventure several days ago in Telogrus Rift that involved saving her friend and mentor, she had burned through what little resources she had built up by channeling the amount of power it took to save him.

“Something exceptionally soft, preferably undyed. Wool, if you have it, though I wouldn’t turn down a plant fiber if it is plush enough.” She replied, raising her voice slightly to compete with the cadence of the auctioneers that poured from the building behind them. The merchant nodded, and pointed toward several undyed rolags, replying just as loudly,

“Try them then, ma’am. Tempest’s Reach sheep make a fine, plush wool when spun. Comes from them being bred for the highlands. They’ve a coarser outer hair, but the inner hair closer to their skin is softer than feathers, if you’ll forgive me being so bold.” The woman picked up a rolag and handed it to Lyra. It was clean, almost pure white, with no imperfections. She drafted a small pinch of it and twisted it between her fingers, nodding absently to herself. The woman hadn’t lied. The fibers were slightly shorter than she was used to, but it would be a pleasant challenge at the end of the day, spinning this wool. 

“How well does it take dye?” She heard herself asking, selecting several more rolags from the pile. The more she handled the fibers, the more she liked them. Despite the thrill of creating opulent gowns and exquisitely tailored suits for her noble clients, there was something refreshing about a basic, down to earth project. She hummed happily to herself, laying aside four rolags of decent size as she listened to the woman’s reply.

“Well enough. Prolonged submerging in chemical dyes might make it brittle, so I recommend lighter colors or natural dyes.” The Gilnean plucked at her apron, which was covered in bits of fluff from her wares. “This here is made from Tempest’s Reach wool.” The soft pink apron matched her fawn brown dress well, though it was clear it had seen better days. Lyra felt that pinch of sympathy again, and added several more rolags to her growing pile in dove grey and a lovely lilac that would make an excellent scarf.

“How much, my dear?” When the woman gave her a number, Lyra didn’t even bother to haggle, but merely pulled out and handed over the gold without a word. The merchant stared at her for a moment before a blush spread over her cheeks. Lyra simply waited, smiling politely as if nothing were wrong. She knew she was being overcharged, but it didn’t matter. Not in this case.

“I don’t need charity, ma’am.” The woman muttered, her hands gripping the edges of her apron so tightly Lyra was afraid she would rip the fabric.

“It isn’t charity. It is a business transaction. One I hope to conclude quickly so that I might go and play with my new pretties in the comfort of my own home.” Lyra replied tartly, though she softened it with a smile. Lowering her voice so she wouldn’t attract the attention of any passerbys, she added, “If I like this wool enough, I may stop by to purchase the rest later and discuss future transactions. After all, I need quite a bit of thread for my business, and I would prefer to purchase it from someone who clearly knows quality when she sees it.” The woman dithered a moment longer, but accepted the gold pieces, tucking them in her belt purse. She grinned, showing slightly long incisors that marked her as a worgen.

“Let me bag these up for you, and you can go see how you like them, then. You won’t be disappointed, I’m certain of it. My old granny used to say there’s nothing finer than sitting with a cup of tea in front of the fire spinning Tempest’s Reach wool on a cold evening.” Her hands were deft as she maneuvered the rolags into a bag and handed them to Lyra. She tucked them safely in her shopping basket, patting them so they were settled “You’ve a spindle?”

“Several, though I purchased one today I am very excited to try later. Thank you again, miss.” Lyra replied, nodded politely as she stepped away from the table. She nearly ran into a hooded man and begged his pardon, though she was met with stony silence from him. A gnomish woman by his side eyed her and chivvied him away, ignoring Lyra’s apology for her misstep. Frowning slightly, Lyra mentally shrugged and headed back to the tunnel that would take her toward the Mage District, her purchases safely in hand. As she approached the bridge that crossed one of the many canals that coursed through the city, she grinned at the familiar sight of her mentor relaxing on the edge, his dark face turned toward the sun.

“What a shock, running into you here,” Lyra teased as she slipped down beside him, setting her basket aside. From a distance, Tevruden Dawnspear looked like the average ren’dorei that could be found throughout the city, but upon closer inspection, many were startled to see he had four eyes instead of the normal two. They all opened at once and glanced at her, filling with amusement at the heaping bag that nearly spilled over the side of her basket.

“I take it that you had a successful shopping trip?” His voice belied his noble upbringing even if his current relaxed pose and casual dress made him look more like a scholar than the paladin he was in truth. Lyra returned his smile and fished around the basket for the drop spindle, showing it to him. 

“I might have found a thing or two to keep me occupied,” she replied mischievously as she pulled out one of the dove grey rolags and pulled away a section of it, tucking the rest in the bag. Tevruden favored her with a politely curious look as she drafted a thin strand of the wool with one hand, twisting it deftly onto the hook of her drop spindle. When she began spinning the fibers into a neat, even, thread, comprehension dawned on his face. He grinned, watching her.

“Back to the basics, then? Not a bad idea while you’re recovering.” She parked the spindle between her knees and wound the newly spun thread on the shaft before beginning again. Several armored guards clanked their way across the bridge behind them. Tevruden eyed the patrol and snorted contemptuously. “Does the monarchy really think increased patrols will make the citizens feel safer when there’s an Old God on the loose?” Lyra spun her thread, considering her answer a moment. There was something peaceful in the simple action of spinning, she thought, something easy and repetitive. Comforting in its normalcy.

“Perhaps not for the likes of you and me, no.” She replied dreamily, intent on her work. “But for those unused to such grand misadventures as the ones we keep finding ourselves in? It might be a small measure of comfort to see more guards, even if they’d be useless if the Corruptor turns his gaze toward Stormwind.” She parked the spindle between her knees again, looking over at her mentor. “You of all people should know that many do not look past the surface of things to see the issues that lie close to the bone.”

“A fair point.” Tev bowed his head as he considered her words before leaning back on his hands. He kicked his heels against the stone of the bridge as he watched a fisherman struggle to reel in a fish on a nearby dock. Around them, the citizens of the city went about their business, ignorant of or choosing to ignore the wider world around them. Lyra took a moment to watch a pair of children race down the cobblestone walks, catcalling one another as they played some game or another. A draenei and a Dark Iron Dwarf bickered cheerfully with one another about the best metals to make blacksmithing hammers as they walked toward the Trade District. Lyra waved shortly to a noble she had made a dress for recently, receiving a nod in return. Nothing more for the likes of her, she thought wryly as she continued to spin her thread. She made a note to return to that Gilnean merchant to purchase more of the wool. The thread beneath her fingers was finer than many she purchased ready made for her embroidery. 

“I take it you were bored sitting around the house all day?” She asked dryly after a long, companionable pause. “I imagine it must be difficult being stuck indoors all day when you’re so used to a life of adventure and questing or whatever it is you void paladins do all day.” From the corner of her eye she saw more than heard Tev laugh. 

“A little of this, a little of that,” he replied. “A gala here, vanquishing minions of the Corruptor there, all in a day’s work truly.” He watched the fisherman unhook the fish from his line and toss it in a barrel beside him, ready to be carted away to the market. “Truth be told, Lyra, there’s a lot more going on in the world than you might be aware of, safe as you are here in Stormwind.”

She laughed bitterly at that as she wound more finished thread onto the shaft of her drop spindle. 

“Safe? I am hardly safe here, and you know that. It is only a matter of time before His gaze turns my way again.” She paused for a moment and looked at him, grim faced. The hooded man and his gnomish companion rounded the corner in the distance, though Lyra ignored them in favor of her friend beside her. “What He knows, they likely all know, and I’ve drawn too much attention from that quarter as of late with first my business with my brother-in-law, and now you.” Tevruden looked down at the peaceful waters below them, frowning thoughtfully. 

“It is true, the Dragon did know much through his contact with the Corruptor.” His voice was reluctant. “He delighted in telling me what he knew, while he kept me imprisoned.” Lyra patted his arm sympathetically, knowing it was still difficult for him to discuss. An entity of N’zoth had taken over his mind, trapping him as effectively as Caemil had walled off Lyra from her own memories. It was only after the entity called the Dragon had learned of Lyra’s slaying of Caemil that it had reached out to her, intent on recruiting her to their cause. It had taken all of Lyra’s power and then some to beat it enough to free Tevruden from the prison in his mind. It had taken both of their remaining power combined to destroy it entirely. That had been nearly a week ago, and both of them were still healing and regaining their strength from their fight in Telogrus Rift. Lyra was still unable to call her wrathguard to her side, which concerned her. His mortal form had been destroyed rather thoroughly by twilight flames during the fight. She wasn’t sure if he just had not regenerated, or if she was still too weak from overtaxing herself to call him properly.

“Somehow I feel as if this isn’t over,” he muttered, rubbing his chin with his hand. “The Corruptor doesn’t give up His prizes easily, nor does He like being thwarted. I was a rather magnificent prize, if I may say so myself.” He winked at her, two of his four eyes closing. Lyra laughed and made the final twist in her thread, securing it neatly to the hook to grab another chunk of the rolag.

“I am certain that, if nothing else, you were at least delightful for Him to look upon while He kept you enslaved,” she replied back tartly, twisting more of a draft onto her thread. “After all, every good tyrant has a harem at their disposal, or so fairy tales would have us believe.” It was good he was able to joke about his imprisonment, she thought to herself as she began spinning again. While his physical wounds had healed neatly, there was still lingering mental and magical trauma to be dealt with. For a moment, he sounded much like his old self.

“Now there’s a thought.” Tevruden looked sharply at the hooded figure and his companion, who had slowed as if to listen to their conversation, his eyes narrowing with speculation. The pair hurried on, though he kept his eyes trained on them until they slid around a corner and disappeared. “You know, for a moment….”

“Hmm?” Lyra looked up from her work and appraised the apprehensive look on his face. He gave her a significant look, his eyes flicking toward where the pair had rounded the corner and mouthed,

“Act casual.”

Nodding, she twisted off her thread and tucked it in her basket, standing and offering him a hand up. “We should make our way home, Tevruden. Alvenyr might join us for dinner, and I still need to get everything ready.” He took her hand and stood, pausing a moment to summon a small void rift next to him. She didn’t say anything as he reached in and withdrew his sword, though openly carrying a weapon might cause them issue with the city guard. When it was securely in his hand, he relaxed slightly.

“I’ll explain when we get home.” He murmured as they began walking. “We need to get off the streets now.” Fear faded into concern as she reached slowly for her own powers, building the scant amount of energy she would need to summon a minor demon to her side instantly if needed. Tevruden felt the stirrings of her magic and nodded approvingly. “I can’t rift us yet. Myself, maybe, but not both of us. My hold on my powers-” 

“I understand.” She grimaced, though she tried to match his casual stroll as they entered the Mage District. “If we are caught, the best I will be able to do is summon a felstalker. I’m afraid I’m still too burned out to summon anything larger.” Frustration welled up in her at her inability to ensure Az-Amal was alright. The grumpy, battle scarred wrathguard had been her strongest demon, and she sorely missed his presence. 

“It will have to do,” he replied tersely, his eyes in continual motion as they turned down her street. The shadows that darkened the normally sunny street seemed to stretch toward them as they passed. Those they passed seemed unperturbed by whatever was bothering the void paladin. They cheerfully greeted them or nodded politely, as per their nature, as the pair hurried by them. Tev frowned, glancing at Lyra a moment. “What are your whispers telling you?”

“They’re….” Shocked, Lyra stopped, reaching out to grab the paladin’s arm. “Tev, they’re silent.” For the first time in almost two years, she was alone with her thoughts. A tiny bubble of elation filled her, but instantly dissipated at the grim expression on his face. She sent out a mental probe and hissed, feeling a very familiar sensation wrapped around her mind. A barrier meant to keep her isolated and alone, a barrier that stank of the same magic Caemil had used to leash her. She prodded it and recoiled, revulsion swamping her. Instead of feeling like a wall of glass, this one roiled under the contact feeling altogether too much like tentacles.

“Lyra, get the door open and summon your felstalker. We’re being hunted.” He tightened his grip on his sword, swinging around once they reached her home so he could guard her back while she unlocked the door. She fumbled for her chatleain and sorted through the keys with fingers that shook more from tension than fear. Neither of them were at their full strength yet, making this attack extremely inopportune. 

“Should I call Alv?” She whispered back, her hands shaking slightly as she twisted the key in the lock. There was no tell-tale black thread showing that Tyr or Sev were there, but that was to be expected. Tyr had seen that the guest room was to be occupied for a week or two and made himself relatively absent from his normal trips, confident that Lyra would be cared for by her mentor while he stayed with her. 

“Yes. Send Pip off as soon as we get in. We might need back up. I don’t want to risk confrontation on the streets where other people could get hurt by accident, but it wouldn’t hurt to have someone else on their way just in case. If there’s a group, the doorway will slow them down because they’ll have to come at us one at a time.” Tev backed slowly through the open door. The street was entirely empty now, the shadows growing far darker than they should be at this time of the afternoon. Lyra twisted her hands and summoned the tiny imp, who immediately crouched and hissed, its tiny claws wrapped around her skirt. She laid her basket aside as she knelt to pat the tiny creature’s head, its nerves adding a layer to her concern.

“Pip, go get Alv. He should be at the Redoubt. Tell him there might be an attack, and to be careful.” The imp looked up at her and scowled, chittering in its high pitched voice in Demonic. Tiny red flames from its fingertips scorched the fabric of her dress in its distress. 

“Call dog. Bad magic nearby.” The imp tugged her skirt one last time and vanished through a portal with a small puff of hellfire, further scorching her dress. Keeping her eye on the door, Lyra began the summons to bring her felstalker into the mortal plane. The demon dog had grown rather massive since she first summoned him from the Nether. Before she could finish the summoning, she felt the magic fade from her hands, making her stare, completely dumbfounded. She reached again for the void and felt a chill when she realized she was unable to even scratch the surface of her power.

“Lyra, we’ve got company.” Tev called grimly. Two figures stood before him, both peering in through the open doorway, ignoring him. Their attention was fixed upon her, as if he didn’t exist.

“Be at peace, citizen. We mean you no harm.” It was the gnome and her hooded companion from before. She peered up at Tevruden and blinked her too-large eyes slowly, her expression as dead as her voice. “Stand down, we only wish to speak to the Voidsinger.” The hooded figure beside her nodded once, its hands hidden deep within the folds of its robe, masking any identifiable features. Malevolence radiated from beneath the hood, despite the gnome’s attempt at being friendly.

“I’m afraid you have me at quite the disadvantage,” Lyra said back, not daring to approach. She tried to reach for more power and mentally snarled when she felt how little her reserves were compared to before her fight with the Dragon a week ago. She fervently wished Alv would hurry, that Tyr or Sev would happen to stop by, just as a precaution in case this interaction went badly. “You seem to know who I am, and yet I know nothing of either of you.” The gnome blinked again, a tiny smile growing on her lips.

“How very rude of me.” She replied politely, her voice oddly deep compared to her kin. “I am known as Fantasy. My companion is known as Theories. We are… Associates… Of the one you know as Caemil Lightsworn.” She tilted her head to the side, the grey ponytails she sported shifting to reveal streaks of what appeared to be green moss within their depths. “We come with a business proposition for you, Voidsinger. One that would benefit us all.”

“Anything that benefits that man is sure to leave me at a severe disadvantage,” Lyra replied, stiffly formal. The robed figure shifted as the sensation of chilled, slimy tentacles grew in her mind. Lyra gagged in spite of herself, nausea rising as a thin, whispering voice spoke deep within the darkest corners of her psyche.

“You will give him back, one way or another, songbird.” Three violet sparks grew from beneath the folds of the hood. Swaying on her feet, her hands clamped over her mouth to keep from vomiting, Lyra realized they were eyes. The reedy voice continued to slither through her mind, winding itself insidiously through her thoughts so completely she could no longer tell which were hers and which came from beyond. “You will retrieve the heart and give it to us, and you may survive. If you resist, we will destroy all you love, starting with your friend here.”

“Lyra, fight him. He’s mind controlling you!” Tev barked. “Push him out!” With a start, she realized she had been reaching into the void rift she knew contained the reliquary. Tev roared, breaking through the control as he slashed at the robed figure, who chuckled malevolently as he easily sidestepped the blow. With a violent gesture, she blew apart the void rift, rounding on the figure as she began to try to call her felhunter to her side. A dark chuckle filled her thoughts at her frustration when she couldn’t muster the power to even summon Pipbis back to her.

“We hoped to do this easily, but it seems more… Encouragement… Will be needed.” A burst of agony overwhelmed Lyra, making her scream and drop to her knees. The insidious sensation filled her mind again, choking her where she fell. Distantly, she heard sounds of combat, but watched in horror as her hands once again began to reach for the rift she knew contained the reliquary. She frantically tried to throw off the man’s control, but was choked into submission by what she realized was a physical tentacle, not just the ones that crawled through her mind. 

Looking up, she gasped in horror at the face of the man - no, creature - that held her captive. If she had been changed by the Void, he was Void corruption itself. Undulating tentacles that pulsed with the power of the void hung lank along a skeletal face that dripped corruption. Dark violet ichor oozed from his eyes and mouth, dripping onto her face. Tentacles sprouted from his shoulders above his arms, giving him additional appendages to hold her captive. His trio of violet eyes stared into hers as his boney hands gripped her shoulders, shaking her just as Lanthon had shaken her during their marriage. Fury filled her, banishing her fear for a moment as she stared defiantly up at him.

“I will never help you,” she hissed, working up enough saliva to spit in his face. He snarled and threw her into the wall, knocking her senseless for a moment. She slid to the floor, trying to drag air into her tortured lungs as he grabbed her again, slamming her against the plaster so hard it cracked. She wheezed and raised her legs, kicking out at him just as another bolt of agony made her scream what little breath she had left.

“You will submit.” The syllabant voice hissed in her mind. “You will obey. Serve at the Master's table or die, mortal.” She coughed, glaring down at the creature that held her and whispered,

“And be a slave like you? Never.” He didn’t respond, choosing instead to wrap one of his tentacles around her neck and squeeze. Darkness grew at the edge of her vision as she tried again to reach for her power, hoping to find a crack in the spell he had woven to cut her off. If she was going to die, she would die fighting. An odd thought for someone who never dreamed to be a warrior. Somehow it comforted her, knowing she wouldn’t go down without a fight. Alv would be proud, even if he might mourn her loss. As her vision was about to go grey, she heard a roar and was unceremoniously dropped by the creature, who snarled something she couldn’t understand to his gnomish companion. Tevruden stood before them, his jaw distending as he blew a thin, controlled gout of twilight flame at the pair to keep them off of her. He interposed himself between them, his growl nothing that could be produced by anything but a dragon.

“You did not tell me that a Twilight would be here,” the gnome snapped. Her pigtails were nothing but charred stumps on the back of her head, and she held her stomach where a long scratch bled sluggishly from Tev’s sword. Theories snarled in return and ripped open a void rift, dragging himself and his companion through before Tev could follow, closing it with a snap behind them. Tevruden looked for a moment if he meant to chase them down in a rift of his own, but turned away when he heard Lyra cough behind him. Rolling onto her back did nothing to ease her breathing as a sharp pain wracked her core, making her gasp. 

“Lyra!” He knelt, pouring a small amount of healing energy into her laboring lungs so she could breathe easier. She gasped, dragging deep breaths of air until a twinge of pain made her whimper softly. He frowned and probed her side, making her bite back a scream of agony. “Cracked ribs and a concussion are a bit beyond me, but I might know someone who can help. I can’t get to them, not without-”

“What the fuck happened?” Alv roared, rushing to her side. She fluttered a hand weakly at him to show she was fine, but he ignored it. Rolling her eyes, she struggled to try to get up, but winced and fell back when her ribs protested her movement. The floor around his feet began to char from the amount of fel flames cascading off of his body, but she knew he wouldn’t calm until she reassured him she was fine. Pipbis manifested next to her, chittering with concern as its tiny hands patted her face to ensure she was alive before disappearing again. The demon hunter rounded on Tevruden and snarled in Demonic, “If you let her get hurt-”

“Alv.” Her voice was barely a squeak, but it was enough to get him to stop. “Alv, we were attacked. Tev defended me.”

“Fuck.” Alv glared at the void paladin, who regarded him stiffly back. Slowly, the flames around him began to calm, though the damage had already been done between him and the twilight flames from before. The interior of her home smelled like fire and brimstone, splashes of blood, broken furniture, and damage riddling her once comfortable living room. It would take days to repair the damage, though at the moment Lyra was just happy to be alive. She reached for her powers and sighed with relief when she could finally touch them again, the whispers in her mind returning in full force after their unnatural absence. Alv pointed a warglaive at the paladin, who was wiping his sword clean before sheathing it on his back. 

“If you know a healer, get them.” 

“Save me from the stubbornness of men just this once and help me up.” Lyra was ashamed to hear what she had hoped to be a tart response come out as nothing more than a breathy wheeze. She rolled to her knees, her hair falling around her face before trying to lever herself up. The room spun in a sickening way that made her retch, drawing Alv’s attention back to her. Grimly, she held on, not wanting to disgrace herself. There was no disguising the naked anger that rolled off of him at the sight of her injuries after she was put, yet again, at risk. 

“You need to lay down, groupie, head injuries aren’t something you want to fuck with.” She glared at him for being critical of her, then closed her eyes as nausea swamped her. She heard Alv swear again before his hands softly helped her up, guiding her to the couch where she could lay down. Her ribs ached until she found a comfortable position with a care for the sprawling bruises that riddled her back and throat. Alv stood beside her, his warglaives out, growling as hints of fel flame continued to dance over his dark skin. The demon inside of him was howling to be let loose, yet even in his anger he kept it chained.

“Tell me what happened.” He demanded when she finally reached out and touched his hand. She shook her head and then immediately regretted it as the nausea returned. Her head ached almost as fiercely as her ribs. 

“I think I might be sick,” she said weakly. He looked around, spying a decorative vase on her mantle that was filled with flowers. He dumped them on the floor and handed it to her without a word, raising an eyebrow when she stared at him incredulously. 

“What? If you have to clean up puke up off the carpet on top of the rest of this mess, you’re gonna be cranky.” His tone of reasonable practicality left no room for argument.

“So helpful.” She bit back resentfully, but accepted the vase and set it where she could easily reach it. “Not like you’d want to deal with me after seeing me puke anyhow.” He huffed a laugh, amusement breaking through his anger for just a moment, though he remained on guard. She felt more than saw the fel energy he wove around himself that would increase his speed and strength the second he tapped into it and felt comforted. Her warrior was here and wouldn’t let anything happen to her. 

“You’ve put up with worse from me, pretty sure I can handle you losing your dinner once.” He leaned down and gave her a tiny kiss on the cheek, so light she barely felt it. His expression darkened at the sight of the bruises that wrapped around her throat. Lyra thought there was a flash of sadness there before his rage returned.

“Now tell me what happened.” She explained as best she could, shuddering as she recalled the mind controlling spell the creature called Theories had woven around her. Alv snarled softly, looking like he wanted to commit murder as he stalked around her house, listening to her.

“So that reliquary really is more trouble than it's worth.” He growled, his raspy voice deep with anger. He spun his warglaives as he thought, one of the edges clipping her good curtains. The lace fluttered to the ground as she sighed and covered her eyes, pretending she didn’t see it so she wouldn’t have to discuss it with him later. “You need to get rid of it, Lyra.”

“Tell me how in a way that won’t free his soul to be brought back by his cohorts and I will, Alvenyr.” She snapped back, feeling too terrible to deal with his bossiness. She knew it was a problem that needed to be dealt with, and yet couldn’t find a solution yet that would satisfy her need for revenge while also preventing him from being raised again in undeath. “You think I welcome being attacked in my own home, mind controlled, choked, flung against the walls-” The wicked grin he leveled her way made her roll her eyes as she continued, “And cut off from my powers like that? To quote you, fuck off.”

“Language, groupie.” There was growling laughter in his voice as he made yet another round through her living room, narrowing his eyes to enhance his magic to check for threats on the second floor. It was clear he was taking the threat seriously, even if he was needling her. As he passed, he leaned down and kissed her again on the lips. “You just lay there and stew in your anger until Tev brings a healer home, and then you can explain to me why it smells like dragon fire in here.” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling, ignoring him.

“I can’t. I promised.” She replied tersely. “Discuss it with Tev if you will, but Alvenyr, please do not ask me to break my word.” He regarded her for a long moment before nodding. There wasn’t a hint of expression on his face, making her wonder what he thought of her keeping secrets from him. It wasn’t her secret to tell in the first place, she thought sadly as he raised his warglaives in a defensive position, growling at the doorway.

“It’s us,” she heard Tev say. A muffled thump of what sounded like hooves on carpet prompted her to try to look around. Alv noticed and glared at her, pointing to the ground in a silent command to remain horizontal. She stuck her tongue out at him, though he didn’t see it with his focus directed at the newcomers.

A tall Lightforged Draenei with a neatly ordered beard dropped beside Lyra, smiling gently down at her. He wore the uniform of a healer attached to one of the guard houses that ringed the city, though the badge he wore indicated he oversaw a district rather than an individual division. The massive man bowed slightly where he knelt, studying her as closely as she studied him. He was the first Lightforged she had ever dealt with, the rest of his kin choosing to stay away from their void touched allies. Peering into his face, she was shocked to see nothing but polite interest and concern rather than disdain for the kind of patient he had been presented with so suddenly.

“Ran into this fellow before I could get to Dante,” Tev said, slightly out of breath. “He says he’s good with head injuries.” The Lightforged nodded, glancing back up at Tev and Alv before looking at her. Silently judging, or assessing the situation? She didn’t even dare to think what a stranger would think. Brawls were common in parts of Old Town, and magical mishaps did sometimes occur in the Mage District when things went wrong with spells and potions, but the interior of her home was clearly marked by signs of battle. The Lightforged seemed unperturbed, more concerned with the state of her injuries than of her home.

“Hello, Miss Lyra. My name is Promulous.” He said quietly, his thick accent and deep voice pleasantly cutting through her headache. “I’m afraid I will have to put you under for this healing since it involves your head. Will you permit me to touch you so that I might heal you?” 

“Please, if your healing magics will not cause me pain. I don’t know how the Light will affect the fact I’m….” She whispered back. He raised a hand, stalling her.

“Do not fear. I have studied not only the Light, but shadow magics as well. The techniques I will use on you will not cause you further harm, I can assure you. You will not be my first ren’dorei patient.” He glanced up at Alv, who continued to hover protectively over her, and Tev who had taken up position at the doorway, watching for trouble. “You appear to have fierce defenders, Miss Lyra. I doubt they would permit me harming you.”

“You got that right, lightsi-” Lyra tilted her head all the way back and glared at Alv, silencing him. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Priest.”

“Save me from that menace that plagues me, if only for a moment.” Lyra whispered, knowing Alv would hear her. The priest glanced up with unfeigned amusement at Alv, who smirked down at her before continuing his stalking rounds throughout her home. Promulous grinned and lightly touched her temples with his fingertips, staring deeply into her eyes. A thin tendril of shadow coiled its way around his fingers, flickering in the corner of her vision, though there was no malice there. Sighing, she surrendered to it, feeling as if she had stepped into a cool patch of shade after spending hours in unforgiving sunlight.

“It will feel as if you lost track of the moment, and you will wake well rested and fully healed a few hours after I am finished.” He murmured. She felt herself drifting off, a different kind of sensation filling her mind than the jarring, slimy manifestation before. “Sleep well, Miss Lyra. We will keep you safe here for now.” She muttered her thanks before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

\------------

She awoke later in semi-darkness, sitting up sharply with a gasp as the shadows seemed to slither around her. A firm hand caught her, easing her back as she struggled to get her bearings. Several lit candles brightened the room enough that she could recognize her bedroom, though the sagging of the mattress by her side was a completely unfamiliar sensation.

“Easy, groupie, it's just me. You’re safe.” She looked over to Alv, who was sitting up next to her in bed, blankets bunched around his waist from where he had leaned forward to catch her. His fel eyes glowed bright in the near darkness, casting eerie shadows across his features that should have been frightening. Instead, she found herself staring, a blush rising to her cheeks. Slowly, her breathing steadied, and she allowed him to help her lean back back against her pillows.

“You’re in my bed.” She said dumbly, blinking the last of sleep out of her eyes. The flames in his eyes flickered a moment as he smirked down at her, his long black hair slipping from his shoulders to hang around his face. “You’ve never been in my bed before.”

“Yeah, I am. Gotta problem with that?” His hair fell over her face, tickling her nose. She sneezed, turning away from him for a moment. He leaned forward, flipping it in her face again. Normally she wouldn’t mind his playful side, but after the day she had, her temper began to rise.

“Did you at least bathe before you got on my clean sheets?” The tartness in her voice made him back off immediately. His smug look turned to a scowl as he lay back down, rolling in a way that stole all of the covers off of her. She felt an immediate burst of regret and bit her lip, tugging slightly at his cocoon of blankets. He ignored her, but she thought she heard something hashly muttered in Darnassian. “Alvenyr, I’m sorry, that was very rude of me. I had a terrible day, but I shouldn’t take that out on you.”

“I’m just here to make sure nothing comes at you tonight.” He replied gruffly, rolling back over so she could steal some of the blankets back. There was a note of hesitation in his voice, his cockiness completely gone, when he turned to look at her, the blankets rustling around him. His warglaives leaned beside the bed against her nightstand where he could find them even if he had to reach for them in the dark. He had left the curtains open, she saw, to better see if anything would come at them from the windows. She found it interesting that he had placed himself between them and her, as if he expected trouble to come from that quarter and not through the door. “If it's really a problem I’ll sleep on the couch or something.” 

“No, it’s fine, I just didn’t expect…” She smoothed the covers over herself, taking a moment to calm herself by focusing on the texture of the weave on the top blanket. A loose thread had pulled free from it, likely from Alv’s clawed hands, causing part of the fabric to bunch awkwardly under her hands. Funny, how a single thread being out of place could cause such a change. She stopped fiddling with the thread and looked at him through a veil of her hair. “Does it bother you?”

“Nah.” They stared at each other for a moment before he lifted his arm. “Come here.” She slid over, laying her head on his chest, sighing contentedly as she draped an arm over his waist. He slowly lowered his arm around her, rubbing his thumb across her skin when she finally settled. “You hurting still?”

“Not at all.” She replied softly, listening to his heart beat. He lifted his head slightly and flipped his hair across his pillow, away from her face. She considered the state of herself a moment, realizing that the pain in her ribs and head were gone before smiling against his chest. “It seems that the priest really did know what he was doing.”

“Seems alright. He’s with Tev, talking.” Alv sounded more bored than curious about what they could be discussing. “Told me to stay with you. Tev said something about your shopping basket being safe, too, if that matters. Priest guy said he’ll help guard tonight and that he put an alert out, just in case, but Lyra… It might not be safe for you to stay here in Stormwind anymore.”

“I know,” she replied quietly, tracing the tattoos on his chest. It was interesting that they, too, glowed slightly in the dark, though she had never noticed before. Considering they were arcane symbols meant to keep the demonic powers within Alv under control, it made sense that they would contain some latent magic. It wasn’t unpleasant, but another facet of what made him who he was. It thrilled her to make new discoveries about him even after months of friendship. “Alv, I had a thought, a little while ago, but I’m not sure if it's a smart one.”

“You finally come to your senses and gonna run off to join the Darkmoon Faire?” He huffed a little when she lightly tapped his chest with a finger. “Spector would like that. You could get us into all the shows.”

“No, somewhere far less exciting, I’m afraid.” Lyra replied. She looked up at him, hesitating a moment. “I thought to maybe take up my old residence in Dalaran.” He stilled, not even breathing for a moment. Under her ear, she heard his heart beat slightly faster in the long silence that followed her words. She sat up, looking down at him, surprised at his reaction. He turned his face away, not looking at her as he rumbled,

“And take up your old life, then.”

“No. Just the townhouse, if I can legally get the deed in my hands. There is nothing to my old life left, anyhow. It isn’t as if I had a flourishing social life or anything. I was just…” She broke off, not wanting to think about her son, not now. Not after the day she had. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she continued.

“There’s several benefits to it that mostly pertain to my business, but…” She broke off, making him look back at her. One of the candles guttered as a small draft came down the chimney into her room, making her start. He ran his hand down her back, trying to soothe her until she could calm herself.

“But?” He prompted, an odd note in his voice despite the lack of emotion on his face. She toyed with one of her curls, not sure how to admit what she really feared to him. The uncertainty she felt was written all over her face when he finally turned back to her. “You afraid I won’t come see you or something?”

That question was more direct than she had anticipated, cutting right to the heart of the potential problem. She had been grieving following the recovery of her memories, casting a slight pall on their relationship. Unburdening herself to him over the lingering guilt caused by the death of her son had felt wrong, though he had never once complained when she spoke of it. Instead, he had seemingly understood her grief, supporting her through it with a gentleness she didn’t know he had in him. Despite that understanding, she didn’t wish to continue imposing on his good nature more than she had already. Tonight pushed that boundary further, she thought, though she didn’t bring it up. 

There were her feelings, and his potential lack of them, to consider. Despite their differences, or perhaps because of them, her heart had unfurled to him like a flower to the sun. It was frightening as well as exciting considering where their strange friendship might lead. There had never been love between her and her husband. Cold, uncaring, proper, and severe Lanthon, always on the path of the Light, always righteous in every way, had grown from an overbearing friend to an unfeeling spouse. How ironic it was that she had managed to fall for a man so entirely different from the priest turned paladin she had married to avoid a life on the streets.

For all his bad manners, chaotic behavior, and rough personality, Alv had been the one to capture her heart. Their time together had shown her the man he was at his core, the sweetness and fierce protectiveness that lay hidden under the neerdowell side he showed the world. Though he seemed loathe to admit it, he had a brilliant mind with a thirst for knowledge that rivaled her own. The tender care and softer side he seemed to show around her had only grown in their time spent together, though there were days he grew distant or disappeared entirely.

They hadn’t discussed their relationship in any way, preferring not to lean on labels or declare commitment even though she tried to show him in as many ways possible that she was completely devoted to him. They both shied away from those discussions when they started slowly circling around toward them, regardless of how closely they both hinted at it at times. Their long moments, like now, where they held onto one another, the heated kisses, and spirited discussions that lasted long into the night and made others groan when they overheard them made one thing clear. They both treasured what they had, in their own ways, though at times in the dark of the night she wondered if her budding love for him was purely one sided. She wasn’t ready to face rejection, so she kept her feelings to herself, not wanting to frighten him off.

“That was one concern of many, yes.” She admitted this freely, though it was the main reason why she hadn’t brought it up before. “Though there are others as well.” Their moments spent together throughout the day were ones she treasured because they brought them closer together. Now they were once again close to discussing it, and she felt that familiar pang of fear. He was silent for a moment, his hand still stroking her arm as he considered.

“Portal to the Fel Hammer is still up,” he muttered finally, startling her. “Wouldn’t be too bad hanging out there instead of the Redoubt while you’re working.” He pulled her down so he could kiss her forehead, grinning. “Haven’t pestered that lot in a while, would be good to remind them how great I am.”

“Humility will always be your strongest personality trait, beloved.” She laughed, tapping his nose with her finger. She leaned down and kissed him softly, leaning her forehead against his for a long moment. “Will you go with me? When I have to face… Everything again?”

“‘Course.” He replied, reaching up and twining his hand in her hair. “After today, you couldn’t keep me away even if you tried. You’ll need to be more careful than ever. I don’t like that they got away. Dalaran's got more magical protections than this place does. It'll make it safer for you to live there." The frown on his face was fierce as he slowly ran his fingers through her curls. “They could be anywhere, ready to strike at any time, though. Two lone agents, using code names? They're professional killers, groupie. Worries me."

“It worries me, too.” The thought of falling prey to the pair again chilled her, making her shiver slightly. She made a face at him and kissed him before laying her head on his chest again. He pulled one of the blankets up over her shoulder and pressed his lips against the top of her head.

“We’ll have to wait for them to come to you. Tev said he couldn’t track them at all.” Alv leaned his head back, looking out the window across the moonlight touched rooflines and snarled. “Had it not been-”

“Had it not been for me getting injured, he likely would have been able to, I know.” Lyra was frustrated by that fact as well, feeling deeply ashamed that she hadn’t been able to defend herself at all from the creature called Theories. She shuddered, feeling the revulsion at the cold touch of the man’s mind filling her again. He had completely cut her off using powers similar to Caemil’s and the thought of losing everything again terrified her. Losing her memories again was her worst nightmare, especially after what it had taken to regain them. There was so much more for her to lose now, too. Forgetting who Alv and the other friends she had made would break her, even if she was ignorant of the loss. “Hopefully our stand today keeps them away until I can safely leave this place.”

“Until then, you aren’t to go anywhere without one of us with you,” Alv said sternly. She was about to protest until he silenced her with a snarl. “This is the second time you’ve been in a situation you shouldn’t have been in at all, Sinnlyra. Tev agrees, so don’t think you can just void rift outta here to avoid it. Until we get you moved, we’re staying with you.” She looked down, not wanting to confess that this was actually the third time she had been in danger since meeting him. He would find out soon enough if he chose to speak with Tev.

“Alright, imp.” She wasn’t pleased, but she knew there was wisdom in his words and he meant it only because he was concerned. “Will you tell Tyr and Sev?” Alv’s hand stilled on her arm as he thought about it. 

“Yeah, I’ll tell them. Won’t hurt to know what might be coming and having them looking out.” He twirled one of her curls around his finger and tugged it. “Tyr’s a good guy, he’ll look out for you. And my brother has his own way of dealing with shit. Worst comes to worst, I’ll keep you safe.” There was that note of hesitation again, that uncertainty that crept into his voice.“Go to sleep, groupie. You’re safe enough tonight.”

“Thank you, Alv.” Even with the healing sleep she had been put under, she found herself unable to keep her eyes open and curled up beside him. He lightly kissed the top of her head and murmured something to her she didn’t understand before settling himself to keep watch on the window. The silence that followed was a comfortable one, the sound of his heart lulling her off to sleep. For all the highs and lows of the day, she thought before drifting off again, this was certainly worth it.


End file.
